


refractions (drabble collection)

by nevereverever



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Coming Out, Crying, Drabble Collection, F/M, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Feels, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Love, Marriage Proposal, Moving In Together, Nightmares, Pneumonia, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Wedding, supportive friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2020-12-23 18:40:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21085991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevereverever/pseuds/nevereverever
Summary: A quick little series of drabbles inspired by my favorite episodes of the West Wing. Some will be cute, some sad, all too short to post on their own.





	1. In the Shadow of Two Gunmen

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks. I love this show and these characters with my entire heart and soul. I have a bunch of ideas, but these first two come from a rewatch of In The Shadow Of Two Gunmen (1&2). No guarantees when (if ever) the next couple will be posted. Enjoy!

Wedding Day

Charlie cradled his cup of coffee in his hands like it was the last source of warmth on Earth. He knew he could go inside the house and heat up by the fire, but the sun had just peeked over the horizon on his wedding day, and he wanted a moment to breathe

Zoey never wanted a big public wedding. She'd repeated over and over that Ellie should have had more sense and fallen in love post White House. She wanted to get married at the farm in Manchester, under the big maple tree that her dad had fallen out of while putting up their childhood swing. Charlie looked out at it, and at the sea of chairs around it. None of it looked real. When he kissed Zoey goodbye the night before he hadn't really believed that the next time they kissed they'd be married.

The rocking chair next to him creaked when someone joined him. Their presence was calm and quiet, so he kept looking out at the scene in the yard below. Even so early, there were people bustling around, preparing for the wedding.

"You feeling alright, Charlie?" He glanced at the person next to him, the former president, his soon to be father-in-law. He looked so human in the early morning light, rumpled Notre Dame sweatshirt and all.

"Yes, sir," he replied instinctively, “just a little nervous." He rubbed a finger across his engagement ring. Zoe had proposed, one ring for each of them. On the inside of his was the tiny engraved word ‘cumin’, on hers ‘oregano’. It made him smile every time he looked at it. They were so small then.

"Kid, if you're gonna marry my daughter in six hours, you can't keep calling me sir." Charlie laughed into his mug.

"What should I call you then?" He had to actively leave off the sir at the end. His skin prickled in the cool air, and a shiver ran down his spine. There was a lump in his throat and he didn't know why

"Jed, at least." There was a silence for a moment, and it hung in the air like a dewdrop on a spiderweb, so delicate.

“Only Mrs. Bartlet calls you that,” Charlie responded quietly. The other man waved him off, grinning.

“You definitely can’t keep calling her Mrs. Bartlet. She didn’t even like that back when you weren’t engaged to one of her children.” Charlie’s breath sped up and his eyes started to water. Engaged. Engaged to be married to the great love of his life. Just hours from joining this family. “I guess the girls call me-”

"Dad?" He asked, fear in his voice. A tear ran down his cheek and he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what the feeling was, so full and happy and terrified.

"You've been my son for the longest time, Charlie. And I love you very much. Now, come have some breakfast. I think Josh made some bacon," the younger man nodded and sniffed, "You're sure you're alright?" Charlie nodded again. They stood together and walked inside, greeted by the warmth of the fire and the smell of breakfast. Josh, Sam, and Toby were bickering around the island in the kitchen, something about subsidies to hog farmers that meant very little to him in that moment. And it was good.

When he stood at the foot of the maple tree and saw Deanna crying, saw Josh and Sam and CJ beaming, saw Jed, his father, looking so proud, saw Zoey, perfect Zoey, the only word he could think was family. 

Moving Up

When they decided to move in with each other, it wasn't all that big a deal. Josh slept at Donna's more often than not, and when she got a letter in the mail that her lease was up, it felt like the right time. She’d really decided when he’d looked into her eyes, held her hand so softly and said “Pay less rent with me Donnatella Diane Moss” and it took absolutely every ounce of her will not to jump his bones then and there.

They were unpacking into the new place, a cute little 2 bedroom in Dupont Circle because when were they ever home anyway. They’d gotten everything vital set up, kitchen, bed and such, and were working on a box marked “Bartlet Campaign 1 Stuff” when they found it. The box was mostly papers and t-shirts and Josh was humming along to a song that was stuck in his head when his hand brushed against it.

He pulled on the lanyard to reveal a laminated Bartlet for America pass, beat up after 8 years, but still with a legible ‘Josh Lyman’ on it. On the corner was some smudged marker that said ‘My name is Donna.’ He laughed and twirled the lanyard in his fingers. He nudged Donna’s knee with his.

“You kept it.” She looked up, then down at the badge where he was cradling it in his hand. A smile crossed her face when she pulled him in for a kiss, her hand resting on the nape of his neck. He could feel her smile against his lips. They sat for a moment, breathing each other's air.

“Of course I kept it, ya numpty. This pass changed my life. It’s the first thing in the world that was ours. You and me.” She trailed her fingers down his arms, lingering at old scars.

“Did you just call me a numpty?” His face screwed up the way it always did when she poked fun at him and she kissed it away. It was incredibly effective and she didn’t know if she’d ever get used to being able to do it. “Ours,” he repeated, stroking the old lanyard with his thumb. 

“I love you,” Donna whispered, not fully sure if he could hear. She knew, well, deep down she knew that they had loved each other for the better part of a decade but saying it--- That was something new. He froze for a second, his eyes wide and crinkled at the edges. After a moment he leaned forward and rested his head on her shoulder.

“I love you too, Donna Moss.”


	2. Noel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all inspire me no doubt. I know that post-Noel fic is like, the most common fic here, but I have Feelings. Enjoy!

Nightmare

He doesn’t remember what he was dreaming about. He’d never been able to remember his dreams, even as a little kid. Since Rosslyn, it had been a blessing. He didn’t know what happened in his head when he was asleep, what evil his brain came up with when he wasn’t looking.

All he knows is that he woke up tired and scared and with gunshots in his ears, tears running down his cheeks. He opened his eyes to scare the last of the darkness away, and realized that the weight on his chest was Donna, looking up at him with those big green eyes of hers. She brushed away a tear with her thumb.

“Wanna talk about it?” Something in his chest clenched. It hurt, sometimes, just how much she loved him. Her hair was tied up, she’d clearly fallen asleep in her makeup, and she was still the most beautiful thing. 

“Nothing to talk about,” he sniffed, loosening his grip on the bedsheets. He took a deep breath but it didn’t steady him.

“Liar. It’s just me, remember?” She traced her fingertips lightly over his sternum, felt the warmth there. She could hear his heartbeat. Strong and fast. 

“I thought- I thought it would be over by now. It’s been 6 years, and I’m so tired, Donna,” he said, voice cracking at the edges. Whatever composure he had because he didn’t remember fell away, and he felt it, the fear trying to claw its way out of his chest

“Do you want to call somebody? CJ and Toby are probably asleep, but Sam or the President? Jed, I mean. We could wake up Toby or CJ, they wouldn’t mind,” she rambled. They had found, over the years, that he was always worried about the others, not himself. He had lost his father, his sister, his mother, all when he wasn’t there. Talking to someone, hearing their voice, made him breathe easier. There was a moment of heartbreaking silence, then-

“I want Leo,” he said, voice cracking painfully. His chest hurt, and he didn’t know if it was the nerve pain, or sadness, or the fact that he wasn’t quite breathing right. 

“Baby,” she whispered, holding him close, “Oh baby, I know. I’m sorry.” Her voice broke too. She pulled them both upright and held him as tight as she could, and he gripped back. It had been a year since Leo’s death, and they had grieved and accepted. Most days when Josh’s mind wandered to his old boss, he just smiled. But he was delicate, stuck in the memories.

“You know, when you were still in surgery, I took a minute away from everyone else, and I just fell to pieces. I was crying my eyes out in the hallway when Leo walked by. He stood with me, all stoic until I calmed down. Then he took my hand and he said ‘He’s gonna be okay, Donna. He’s got our strength too.’ You’ve still got our strength, Josh.” The early morning sunlight had begun to leak through their curtains, and the world seemed okay. She kissed his forehead tenderly, reminded of just how lucky they were to still be there, together. 

“I’m okay,” he murmured after a while.

“Yeah. Yeah, you are.”

Care for Yourself

It had been a busy week. The negotiations in Kazakhstan were finally managing to get somewhere, but their healthcare plan was stalled in committee because the Republicans were pissed off because they had gotten fucked over on the education bill because the teacher’s unions were striking in Chicago. Plus, Josh was sick and wouldn't admit it. Sam had been socking his desk drawers with cough drops and replacing his coffee with decaf, but not much had come of it. Getting sick just made him more stubborn. 

It had been an exhausting week, and Sam was staffing the President when he heard a tumbling in Josh’s office. Sam bristled, shooting a glance over his shoulder at the closed door. 

President Santos nodded at him and Sam ran.

Josh was in a heap on the floor, coughing. He was pale and shaking, gasping and wheezing to get a breath in. Sam was on the floor next to him in a second, the President watching from the doorway. Sam ran his hand across his friend’s back as the coughing started to subside, and felt the heat drifting off Josh in waves. He caught the President’s eyes, filled with worry. He turned to Josh's assistant, Cathy.

“Call ahead to GW. Please,” Sam said, his heart beating out of his chest. Josh grabbed his wrist, gripped it tightly until his knuckles went white

“No, ‘s just a cold Sam. I don’t want-” He coughed instead of finishing the sentence, but they both knew what he meant. 

“Doesn’t sound like just a cold, buddy. It might have been a week ago, but I don’t think it is anymore and your lungs are scarred already. You need a doctor,” Sam whispered, unsure if the President could hear, or if he would want to.

“You need to take care of yourself, Josh. Sam’s gonna take you to the hospital,” President Santos said as he helped them both off of the ground. Josh swayed but stayed upright. Santos put a hand on Josh’s shoulder and squeezed. It was all that they needed to say.

“Can we call Donna?” Josh slurred into Sam’s shoulder as they walked to his car.

“Donna’s in Laos. It’s 4 am there. We really shouldn’t let her go anywhere if this is what happens when she’s gone-”

“She’ll pick up. Sam- I’m sca- Can we call Donna?” He started to cough again, deep in his chest, tearing at his throat and dear god, it hurt. Sam ushered him into the car where the air was warmer and the coughing settled. He pulled out his phone and dialed the number. Sure enough, she picked up after two rings.

“Sam?” She answered, her voice rough with sleep. 

“Hi. Josh and I, we’re on our way to the doctor. The hospital. He’s got a cough and a fever, and we’re a little worried-” She cut him off.

“Josh? You there? You’re safe, okay? Sam’s with you,” she said, and Sam could feel her worry through the phone.

“Sam’s with me,” he pried the phone from Sam’s hand and pressed it close to his chest, “I’m scared. My head hurts. You’re in Laos. I’m scared.” A sob wrenched its way from his throat, then a volley of coughs that left him panting and left Sam with his foot heavy on the gas.

“Yeah. And I’m on a plane home as soon as I can be, sweetheart. I’ll call you from the airport. You’ll be just fine. Sam, give him a hug for me.” She hung up, and Josh let the phone drop into his lap.

“It doesn’t happen like this anymore. I don’t get like this.”

“Josh. It’s okay if you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. <3


	3. Hartsfield Landing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, it's been a while! I've only got one instead of two this time, but it is sad and sweet and I hope you like it. **The warning here** is that it implies two potentially triggering things: someone outing someone else without their consent, and that President Bartlet has died

_Sam,_

_The past few years have not been kind to you, yet you have weathered them with strength and grace. There are thousands of people, young and old, who love in ways the world has deemed immoral, and I am sure that many of them look to you as a beacon of what could be. To do what you did, tell the world who you are, that took courage I cannot imagine. I am proud of you beyond words, Sam._

_I told you once that you’d run for president one day, and I stand by that. You have drive and vision. You have kindness and fortitude. Though they may not always know it, the American people want a leader like you. Remember that there are so many people who will give everything they have to help you get there._

_Sam, you all, my staff, I think you were my greatest legacy in Washington. You, Josh, CJ, you’ve changed the world. I can’t take credit for that, even if I’d like to. But I can hope that when you are leading our country towards justice, freedom, and joy that you will hold dear our time together._

_I hope you remember that you helped light the way in our darkest moments. The more you share with the world, the brighter it becomes._

_I love you dearly,_

_Jed Bartlet_

It wasn’t in his handwriting, and it was jarring. Sam was crying but he made sure that none of his tears hit the page. Josh sat next to him, saying something that he couldn’t fully comprehend with a hand on his knee. Donna had her head rested on his shoulder.

“We got them months ago. It was before-” Donna cut herself off. “I’m sorry, Sam. I don’t know why yours didn’t come…” She wrapped her arms around his waist, and it was nice, but he wasn’t sad, not really. Grieving, maybe. They sat in silence for a while, and with his two of his best friends at his sides and a letter from his mentor in his hand, Sam felt safer than he had in a long while.

“I’m gonna run for President.” Sam scrubbed a hand across his face. He put the letter down on the coffee table next to the torn envelope it had arrived in. He’d called Josh and Donna to his tiny Georgetown apartment before he’d even opened it.

“Sam.” Donna’s voice tinged with sadness.

“I ran for the House after the 47th, I won. I ran for Senate, I won. I got ou- I came out, got re-elected to become California’s first openly queer Senator. I can do it, he knew I could.” Sam’s voice broke over the final words as a sob wrest itself from his throat.

“Of course you can, buddy, but do you want to?” Josh sounded tired. He kept tracing circles into Sam’s pants with his thumb.

“All I’ve ever wanted, my whole damn career, was to do good for people. Secure the blessings of liberty for ourselves and our posterity. Even- even coming out. If I had the chance to go back and do it all over again I would because someone, somewhere, felt stronger after I did. That was worth it.” Josh opened his mouth to speak, but Sam kept going.

“Jed showed me wisdom. Santos taught me strength. I found my own courage. I am ready to lead.” He looked at Josh, then Donna, and he smiled. Donna brought a hand to his cheek and brushed a tear away with her thumb.

“All we need now is a campaign slogan,” she said, beaming. Her eyes crinkled at the edges.

“Easy,” Josh replied. He caught Sam’s eyes. He looked much older than when he’d showed up drenched from the rain at Sam’s firm, but he still had an awful poker face. They’d been through so much together, but in that moment, they knew this was what it had been leading to.

“Seaborn for America.”


	4. Gaza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a rough sequel to the second drabble of chapter 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hello, if you haven't noticed by now, I'm Josh/Donna trash. This is but a single scene as well, but it's longer than the others. Hope you like it :)

Getting from Vientiane, Laos to DC is a roughly 23-hour flight with time for a stop-off in Seoul. The First Lady wasn’t due back for 3 more days, so Donna booked the first commercial flight she could get. In the cab on the way to the airport, she did the calculation in her head. It would take her about 32 hours to get back to Josh.

She sent Sam a text from the gate.

To Samuel  
at the airport. any updates.

To Donnatella  
He's just dozed off in the waiting room.

To Samuel  
should be able to get emails on the plane. tell me when you know anything. tell him i’ll be there as soon as i can.

To Donnatella  
Will do. Have a safe flight

To Samuel  
this makes me miss Air Force 1F so bad.

To Donnatella  
He’s fine, Donna.

She boarded the plane in a daze. The last week had been busy and exciting, so much so that she hadn’t had time to realize she was exhausted. She slumped into her seat and let her head come to rest against the wall. He’s fine, Donna. He’s with Sam and doctors and it doesn’t matter that it’s going to take you 33 more hours to get there from halfway around the world.

Except that it did matter. It mattered because he was sick and scared and she needed to be there already.

She imagined what Josh must have felt like when he heard about Gaza. What his plane ride to Germany must have been like, not knowing whether she would live or die. Remembered what it felt like sitting in the GW waiting room.

She tried to tell herself it was no use worrying, that he was fine. But no reassurances or breathing exercises or brief moments of sleep made her feel any better when she was above the Pacific Ocean with 15 hours left to go and got an email.

From <seaborn@who.eop.gov>  
Subject- Pneumonia

They’re going to keep him for observation. Call me when you touch down. Don’t panic, he’s okay.

\--S

Attached was a picture of Josh in a hospital bed. His face was white as a sheet and his eyes were half-closed, but he was giving the camera a big thumbs up. And she’d been strong, booking flights and making plans, but that picture of him hurt. It hurt like a bullet in her chest and a badly broken leg and a blood clot. She put a hand over her mouth and let out a sob. 

Alone. Scared. Hospital.  
The woman next to her put a hand on her shoulder and said something in Korean. Donna didn’t understand a word but it was comforting, somehow. Across cultures and language, this woman could tell she was hurting. Donna forced a smile and wiped the tears from her eyes.

15 hours. They’d make it. She would move mountains for this man. A plane ride was nothing.

  
When Josh woke up, someone was holding his hand. Not Sam’s hand, too small. His chest hurt, each breath hurt, but the heart monitor kept beeping. It was hard but he could breathe. He pried his eyes open, but it was too bright to see.

“German chocolate cake,” a voice said. No, not just a voice, the best voice, Donna.

“You’re mean,” he slurred. His voice sounded funny and it took him a minute to realize he had an oxygen mask on.

“And you’re an idiot who ignored a cold so long it turned into pneumonia, dragging your beautiful and talented fiancee back from a diplomatic trip to Laos.” His brain caught on something and he struggled to make his eyes focus on her. He started to cough again and it hurt.

“We’re engaged?” He got a good look at her face. She looked like she’d been on a plane for 25 hours. She looked sad.

“We’re gonna be after this, bucko. I’m gonna make our rings from my plane tickets and your hospital bracelet.” She sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand on his chest, over the scars.

“‘M sorry. I didn't mean to get sick, I--” he was cut off by another round of coughing that tore at his chest and throat. She rubbed soothing circles into his skin but it still hurt, ached like the world was falling in. Like nothing was safe and he was in pain and blood and-

“Stop that. You’re gonna be okay, and I’m here now.” She traced his cheekbone with her thumb.

“I hate hospitals,” he rasped, sinking back into the pillows. She nudged him to make room for her to lie down and he settled with his forehead in the crook of her neck. His skin was hot and dry and she worried.

“I know, babydoll,” she whispered into his hair.

“Since when do you call me babydoll?”

“Since I just traveled for 35 hours to cuddle my sweaty, ailing fiance.” He started to drift off because, for the first time since Sam had rushed into his office demanding they go to the hospital, he felt safe.

“Mmm. Marry me?” She looked down at him, smiling. His eyes were closed, but he had a smile on his face under the oxygen mask.

“Of course, honeybunch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pop me a note if you think I deserve one <3 I love to hear from you all


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